Dreams
by jaeye
Summary: What motivates the most? Love or Hate? AU DISCONTINUED or maybe SUSPENDED due to plot holes...
1. Prologue: Dreams

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me.

Rating: G

Summary: Is it love or hate that motivates the most? What is the connection between the Heirs? (AU)

Title: Dreams 

By Jaeye

Why don't you wake up, my looove…?

Issss it too dark to dreammm?

Issss it too late to open your eyesss?

I…

I never meant to hurt youuu…

--------------------------------------

Darkness was what he saw first… darkness and swirling greyness. It was unlike the usual dreams; there was no sense of time or place, yet…

He was certain that there was someone there… just a few feet in front of him. He reached out and touched his nose, sliding his fingers up to nudge at his glasses – just to make sure, then to his forehead which throbbed with a vengeance. His hand slipped on the droplets of sweat, wetting his messy fringe as he nervously flattened it down.

The fog cleared suddenly like it was swept away by wind, only there was no wind. Peering about, he kept his hand in his pocket, carefully fingering the slender wand that pressed against his thigh. Whatever was out there was not going to take him by surprise… but then again it was just a dream. Why did he need a wand? Nonetheless he kept his hand in its place as he took a step forward.

The floor was wet and slimy, grey with green tinges that looked like fungus. There was the sound of water trickling, no doubt from the cracks that lined the dark cavern. It was underground and seemed strangely cold.

Looove… wake up…

There's no one around, you can ssstop pretending… no point in hiding from meee…

Love?

He took a step closer to the soft sibilant voice, then another… and another. It was so soft; it seemed to come from below. But how could that be?

Farther up the cavern was an engraving of a… he cocked his head slightly, trying to make out the strange wavy lines. If he looked at it with his eyes slightly squinted, it looked like stylised waves of water, overlapping one another. Then again, it could just be a spring.

He turned around, trying to locate the source of the voice again. But there was no other sound now, apart from the quiet flow of water. He turned around and around and around…

Pleassee…

Jusst open your eyess… I'm right here, right beside youu…

There! He took a determined step toward the voice. Careful not to be distracted by the echoes he took another step and suddenly found his feet engulfed by cold. He looked down. Water. He looked up. Those lines again, right in front of him!

Reaching up, he traced the engravings in the wall and wondered - why was the voice coming from a wall? Rummaging in his pocket, he quickly brought out his wand and ran its tip gently over the lines. They seemed to twist and straighten, blurring as they did so until they disappeared. And behind…

There was somebody else in the cavern!

He spun around in sudden fright as something nudged his foot, drawing his attention to the soft pants that resounded so close to him.

Half frightened to look, he bent down and gazed at the dark shape that had touched him. Rat? He gently prodded it with his wand. Prod… Prod…  - "Lumos"

He jerked back in terror.

It was a hand! A soft, brown hand that scratched weakly at the floor, trying to grasp his foot again. He flattened himself against the wall, anxious to get a way from it. It stopped short, scant inches from his robes.

Looove… 

Why do you run from meee? 

Suddenly it lunged forward and dragged him down and he found himself cradled in a pair of cold arms that pressed down on him so tightly… the cold seeped into his robes and he could feel the rasp of the uneven floor against his back as what had 'gotten' him loomed high, its features concealed by darkness.

Why…? It asked him, swaying as if dizzy.

"Why what?" Where was his wand? He had it in his hands just now.

Why do you ruuun? It hissed.

"I'm not running…" God it was so cold.

Yesss… yesss you areee, I looked… and looked… 

Huh?

And looked everywhere but you weren't anywhere… 

"But.."

Then I found… you **WEREN'T** THERE! 

It swooped down at him and he lifted his arms to shield himself, barely managing to do so before it was upon him.

I TOLD you that I would find youuu! 

He gasped in fear as its features came into view from the halo of light that illuminated the wall behind him, coming from his wand dropped by accident just now.

"YOU!"

----------------------------


	2. Chapter 1: The Meaning of My Life

Title: Dreams

Summary: Introspection and a tragedy.

Rating: R

Warnings: I should warn you now, if you haven't caught on, that there is slash in this story. If it gets explicit, i'll upload the explicit parts to Adult I'll write an author's note when i do. But the chapters here won't contain anything NC-17.

Disclaimer: None of it is mine. Characters, settings are all J.K Rowlings….

The Meaning of My Life

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

((Dursley Residence))

He woke up gradually, in stages of shifting awareness, half seen images and voices. There were vague feelings and thoughts floating around in his head. Fear, sadness, confusion and shock. There was terror and despair. Finally, there was nothing.

Lights lit up his bedroom window, the black crossbars flaring to yellow as beautiful fireworks blasted in the sky. Cartwheels and whizzes, bright sputtering fountains. He crawled upright from his twisted bed sheets, untangling his legs to stumble to the window. There on the horizon danced abstract patterns. _Beautiful._ Then they died down and left the night to darkness again.

He stood there, gazing for a time, thinking that maybe they'd light up again. Those beautiful flowers of fire. He'd only seen them once before, during New Year. He'd been let out of his cupboard that one time during the birth of a new year. He'd messed it up though. They'd had a little firework party, and Dudley had been so happy. He'd genuinely felt happy too. They had been so absorbed in watching their son dance around holding the firecracker; they hadn't noticed him standing there, beneath the verandah in the garden. He hadn't gone nearer than that. But the fireworks… they had been so pretty. He'd only wanted to see them alight. All at once…

He turned away from the window and sighed. They wouldn't light up again. He sat back down on his bed and gazed around his cluttered room. Books, quills and parchment littered his table. On the floor was his trunk, which contained his cauldron set, and astronomy telescope. His broom was propped up against the cupboard door. All his clothes were neatly folded either in his trunk or drawers or else hung up in the cupboard. Hedwig's cage was safely ensconced in the shadows above his cupboard.

Everything in his room reminded him of how much he belonged at Hogwarts. His things stood out here, in this normal middle class house in a normal suburban neighborhood. His broom, strange and sinister in its cobwebby nook, his scrolls ancient looking and mysterious with colour changing ink splashed across them. Most of all himself, he thought as he looked in the dresser mirror.

His looks hadn't changed much, still the same Harry. Green eyes, black hair, skinny shoulders. But inside, he felt so different. He felt stretched thin. Compartmentalized. There was the Harry he was, deep inside. Insecure and scared, doubtful and crying out for help. He didn't like that Harry. It was the Harry that he had lived with in that cupboard, the Harry who shuddered at the spiders and cringed when his 'front door' was pounded on by his aunt. He really didn't like that Harry. _Thank God I'm growing up._

Then there was the Harry he was outside of the cupboard. The quiet Harry, obedient and tolerating. This Harry was okay. He was a survivor, he thought. _He's kept me sane._

There was the Harry of Hogwarts. He smiled. He loved being himself the most then. He was free. There was no other word to describe it. All he had were memories. They were the only things that defined this Harry, because he could be anything at Hogwarts.

And last of all, was The Boy Who Lived.

He looked up into the mirror, directly at himself. Actually, he thought, it wasn't quite true to say that he hadn't changed at all. Maybe his features were the same. But sometimes when he stared at himself during the cold lonely days and nights, when his face was the only animate thing he had to look at, he would notice suddenly how when he thought of things, his eyes would darken and lines would appear. At times he found himself glaring so fiercely at his reflection that he startled himself. At other times, he found himself wondering where in those vacant eyes lay the boy he knew he was. _The signs of my impending insanity._

Truth to be told, he'd done a lot of thinking these holidays. He'd had a lot of time, having finished all his summer assignments early owing to the fact that this time, having been threatened with death, the Dursleys had not locked up his trunk.

He hadn't turned away from his thoughts this time. Hadn't tried to run circles. It hadn't been easy, but he'd thought all the thoughts that had been lurking in his head and troubling him.

He'd repeated to himself, over and over, _Sirius is dead. Sirius is dead._ Because it had seemed so unreal in this place where the magical world seemed like a fantasy he'd had. That was one of the reasons why he hated coming back to the Dursleys. After a while, drenched in the mundane life at Privet Drive, he began to wonder in the tiny hours of the night, whether he really was a wizard.

But it _was_ REAL. And Sirius really was DEAD. He just couldn't get over the fact that there would be no more cheerful letters from his godfather, sent in concern for him. Hedwig would never deliver his words to Sirius. Where will they go then, he wondered. All the things he wanted to tell Sirius. Would they die like him too? Can I bury them? Sirius left no body.

He thought about him. About his happily wagging tail and cold nose. His shaggy hair and bright empty eyes. Sirius had suffered a lot, mostly because of him, in one way or another. _Never had freedom._ Harry shook his head. _Never really lived, except at Hogwarts. Like me._

Harry turned away from his blurry reflection. He'd thought about it all already. He'd even considered just giving up, going to Voldemort and shouting, "YES, I'll join you!" or "Kill me now!" But really, he didn't dare do it. He didn't dare look for him. Now that he knew how much hurt he could feel. If he gave up now, it wouldn't be an easy death. And more importantly, it wouldn't be the end. _Or rather, it WOULD be the end. The end of my magical world._ His friends would suffer and wonder why on earth they had ever counted on him. _Maybe Hermione would say that the stress was just too much. Ron would know for sure, that it was all a trick - a trap that I had fallen into, and not dared to take him with me._

Harry sighed and scrubbed his hand across his forehead. There was nothing to it. He'd thought long and hard about all the possible roads to take. Give up? Run away? Stay and learn at Hogwarts then… join the Ministry… as an Auror? But he didn't want that. Not anymore, not after seeing what had happened to Sirius. Look at where it got all of them. Dead, mutilated. Mad Eye Moody came to mind at this thought. He imagined himself in the future, swirling eye in his head, lips blasted out of shape, his scar the only thing recognizable. He shuddered. No.

He couldn't just hide complacently at Hogwarts anymore that was for certain. He didn't yet know what to do exactly, but he did have a budding plan in the back of his head. Now if only he could get back to Hogwarts.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

((Later that night, at Privet Drive))

The night air stirred suddenly and a strange quickening could be felt in the wind. A car turned the corner and headlights swept across the houses making windows flash to reveal stark midnight scenes. It trundled up the street, and turned into the driveway of No. 4 Privet Drive.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, looked out the window. _The Dursleys are back._ He turned away and flopped down on his bed.

CRASH! 

He spun around just in time to feel the shattered glass pierce his face. Fire glittered against the shattered remains of his window. Harry flung himself across the room as another ear shattering blast shook the house and cracked the walls. Diving for his pillow, he drew out his wand, wiping the blood that trickled down his face from his nose and ears with his sleeve.

"Alohomora!"

He grabbed his broom and dashed into the hallway, trying not to panic. There was magic in the air, he could feel it in the shiver that ran down his back. He shook himself and readied his wand. _Something's happened. Dumbledore's enchantment is broken!_

He stopped halfway down the stairs and stooped to peer through the iron bars at what was left of the front portion of Dursley's prized house. It was completely smashed and… their car! The Dursley's car was stuck, half in and half out of the house, rammed into the brick walls and crushed out of shape. He dropped the broom and ran down the stairs, his heart pounding harder than his feet.

"Pleaseletthembealright, pleaseletthembealright," he muttered as he darted around the mangled machinery, trying to pull open the doors but they were wedged fast. He whirled away and jumped onto the bonnet, clearing away the windscreen that were still held in place in a network of cracks. Through it, he could barely see their faces, smudged and encrusted with blood. He sat back on his heels, the last of the glass crushed in his fist.

"Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia…"

Shock made him shiver and breath in shallow gasps. Their faces, so familiar in their twisted unhappy expressions were gruesomely disfigured, eyes wide and bloodshot. Vernon's neck bulged out at a wrong angle, layers of flesh turning blue and grey. Aunt Petunia's crooked teeth were gone and her tongue was bloodied, peeking out from between her split lips. Both their bodies were crushed into their seats, not thrown into the dashboard, but crushed so hard it appeared as if they were short little gremlins, with twisted spines. But the worst was their eyes. They were wide open, staring at him but not seeing.

How long he sat there, he didn't know. The only thing he could hear was his breathing; so harsh it hurt his throat more than the smoke and ashes that floated in the air. Then suddenly, he remembered his cousin.

"DUDLEY!" his cry was quelled by the fire, and he became angry with himself. How much time had he wasted? His cousin could be dying!

He cursed the car and watched it grind against the walls as it was forced out. He rode on the bonnet, only now feeling the heat from the metal. From the lack of screams, Dudley was either dead or unconscious, but one glance at the backseat told him that it was empty.

The garden was burning under fierce flames. The streetlights all down the street were going out and the nearest houses were pitch black. Harry suddenly recalled Hermione saying something about magic and Muggle technology. Jumping off the car, he turned to face the street, curses and counter curses running through his head.

Pop!

A shadow suddenly leaped over the burning bushes and Harry spun, his wand ready and a curse on his lips – "Avada - "

"Harry!" The hood fallen back, he could now see that the cloaked figure was none other than Remus Lupin. Harry staggered back, unsure - "Lupin?"

"Harry, are you alright?" Lupin shouted, shielding them both from the fire with a simple charm. Harry nodded vaguely, eyes still searching the figure in front of him. He could feel the heat creeping across the earth, blackening the grass and reaching for him.

"Lupin, what's going on?" his voice was hoarse.

"No time to explain, come with me!" He started tugging Harry away from the car, which had become a furnace from which terrible sounds could be heard. Harry refused to think about what might be causing those horrible crisp sounds. He could already smell it in the air…

"Harry!" Lupin quickly caught him as he reeled and threw up. He felt sick to his stomach and weak, vision blurred… the ground was so bright, the yellow between the green… then it all swirled and he found himself enveloped in black.

Blood rushed to his head and he swooned. When he woke again all he could see were… mud-splattered boots? There was blood on the edges… Harry turned his head and saw a group of tall, tall people with dark faces… open mouths – screaming from the sky. He moaned in answer and struggled. Hands grasped him everywhere, his neck felt stretched. _Oh, God._

Between the whirling colours… between the red and yellow was green. _Beautiful._ He'd hoped to see them light again. Those lights, beautiful flowers… so familiar… but they hurt his eyes… tears kept streaming… but it still hurt, he blinked and felt the grit scrape his closed eyes, felt a blast of green through his lids… a sudden wrench…. Then he passed out.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

tbc.


	3. Chapter 2: See You When You Get There

Title: Dreams

Summary: Harry, Lupin and Snape.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: I should warn you now, if you haven't caught on, that there is slash in this story. If it gets explicit, i'll upload the explicit parts to Adult I'll write an author's note when i do. But the chapters here won't contain anything NC-17.

Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine.

See You When You Get There

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Harry woke up enfolded in a dusty black coat, his body cushioned by its voluminous folds. His head pounded and his eyes hurt, but he was instantly alert; ears perked to hear. But all he could hear were soft rustlings and the occasional faint whisper.

Slowly he opened his eyes and glanced around the room. It was white and starkly empty, without furniture and only threadbare white curtains filtering the harsh afternoon sun that streamed into the room.

It seemed safe enough, he thought as he gathered his surroundings. Voldemort could hardly be lounging around. That snake seemed only to fit in the darkest murky swamp, or foggy graveyard. He'd never before seen Voldemort in the sun. _Maybe he'd shrivel up and die like the wicked witch of the West, wouldn't that be good? _Harry mused.

Something cool and smooth settled on his forehead, making him jump and open eyes closed to the sun. Lupin's face was hanging upside down above him, forehead creased with worry and – pain? He sat up hurriedly and moaned as the blood rushed to his head.

"Are you feeling alright, Harry? Lupin asked faintly, his hand hovering in the air as if to reach for his forehead again. "You had a bad fever last night. I was so worried, but I couldn't take you to St. Mungo's…" he ran his hand distractedly through his hair.

"'m fine." Harry mumbled and swallowed. His throat was dry.

"Here," he turned and took Harry's wand from the floor beside the wall and conjured a glass of water, handing it to Harry.

"Thanks." Harry gulped down the water, studying Lupin as he did so. The man appeared exhausted and was visibly slouching against the wall. His hair was grayer than ever, and the lines on his face more pronounced in his pain. Harry could see that he was greatly troubled yet sensed that Lupin wasn't going to tell him much if he asked. But that never stopped him from asking before.

"Why wasn't St. Mungo's an option?"

Lupin looked up in surprise, before he remembered what Harry was talking about. Harry frowned. "It's full. Too many patients. They're not going to treat a fever when they have people dying," he said simply.

"It's started then - for real," Harry murmured. Lupin nodded, his light brown eyes catching the sun and reflecting a beautiful golden sheen. Tonight would be the night of the full moon but he was too exhausted to care. He closed his eyes and leaned farther back into the wall. He was just so tired.

"Lupin!" Harry cried out in alarm as the man almost flopped to the floor. He caught him in his arms and lowered him to the ground, moving off the cloak to make space. "Enervate - "

Lupin turned slightly and moaned, but stayed unconscious. Harry tried the spell again and again, then stopped when thick dark blood began to trickle from Lupin's mouth and nose.

"No!" He got up, and dragged Lupin on the floor by pulling at the cloak before remembering his wand.

"Mobilicorpus!" Harry worried about using magic on Lupin while he was obviously badly injured but decided that it was more dangerous not to. He made Lupin's body float horizontally, then made for the door.

Where could he go? He didn't have any wizard or Muggle money on him; all his belongings were still at Privet Drive. He started down the narrow hallway, floating Lupin in front of him, then down the stairs. It appeared that they were in an abandoned house, the rest of the rooms that he passed were just as bare as the one that he woke up in.

At the foot of the stairs was what appeared to be a living room. This room had a lot of furniture covered in white sheets and blinds on the windows. Harry quickly darted around the room, hoping to see… yes! A fireplace. He gently settled Lupin onto a draped sofa, wincing when the blood stained the fabric. "Incendio."

The bright yellow fire burst into flame, making him sweat. He searched the dusty mantelpiece, knocking down a candelabra and clock before he found a jar that contained as much floo powder as ashes and dust. Tossing it into the flames, he hesitated. Could he floo to Hogwarts? Sirius had done it before, but he remembered Hermione saying that the castle was protected by all kinds of charms and spells. Surely it wouldn't work…

"Hogwarts!" The fire turned bright green and flickered. Harry snatched Lupin from the sofa and stepped into the flames, feeling the spin pull them away.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

((Hogwarts, Dungeons))

The deep dark silence that permeated the room was utterly perfect. Not too loud nor too shrill, this silence was a silence in which soft soothing noises and little murmurs could be heard. Down here, the castle seemed to be at rest, with its upper levels devoid of hurried footsteps and anxious pacing.

The coolness was perfect also. Air lightly chilled, the ambience of cold made him awake and alert, made him feel… _refreshed_. There was so much to be said about the atmosphere here.

He laid down the ingredients he'd brought from his office on his favorite table; the one where he'd brewed the perfect Polymorph Potion in his sixth year. Then he went back into his office, took his big black cauldron, mortar and pestle and set them down. Next, he got all the ladles, spoons, knives, vials and other shiny utensils that were needed for this particular potion. Setting all neatly in place, he began to work.

It was wonderful work. The chopping motions, grinding and mashing of ingredients, the measuring were all so very prosaic. It calmed his mind and allowed time for him to think of other things, though he never once forgot what he was doing or what he had to do next. By the time he brought the potion to a boil, he had reached that fulfilling feeling of satisfaction.

Stir three times clockwise, twelve anti-clockwise. Figure eights, then a pinch of powdered aconite. Bitter fumes rose in a shimmering green steam from the cauldron and bathed his hair and face, but he didn't mind. It was time to add bezoar slivers.

He continued stirring, leaning against the high tabletop, his eyes slitted against the heat and his hair framing his face. Staring blankly at the door, as was his habit, he sniffed. He'd just had an annoying feeling that he'd forgotten something. Ah. His complimentary handful of dead cockroaches. He summoned a jar from the top shelf and opened it without interrupting the rhythm of stirring nor losing count. Choosing a few of the plumpest he could find from the top of the jar, he dropped them into the cauldron, one by one at intervals and watched as the bubbles decreased and the steam rose steadily. _Only the best for Lupin,_ he thought, his lips curving up slightly as the potion simmered.

After the potion was done, he cleaned everything carefully, flicking his wand several times to cleanse his cauldron till it shined blackly. Then he picked up the flasks that contained the potion and returned to his office. He shook his robes to rid them of the smell and flooed to Lupin's cottage.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

((Lupin's Cottage))

Harry yelled in surprise when after spinning and spinning he was spat out of the fireplace and onto the floor, still cradling Lupin in his arms. He shook his head and sneezed several times, snorting out flakes of ash and soot. Scrubbing his face, he removed his fractured glasses and got to his feet, holding Lupin around the waist.

Lupin was bleeding more profusely and was terribly pale. He felt like shouting and tearing his hair. Storming to the fireplace he took the jar of Floo powder and tossed it, right in Severus Snape's face.

Harry stood stock still, his mouth gaping and his arms slackened. Professor Snape blinked slowly, his long eyelashes glittering with Floo dust and streams of ash puffing from his nostrils. His hair was streaked with crimson sparkles. Harry was strongly reminded of the Hungarian Horntail he had battled in his fourth year. Their cold fiery gazes were exactly the same.

Snape felt his left eye twitch as he contemplated the brat in front of him. _Stupid Insolent Potter_, he spat. His hand automatically reached out at the perfect height for Harry's neck… _No one around, the old fool can't stop me now, _he thought gleefully.

Harry quickly regained his senses and shoved Lupin into Snape's arms. "He won't wake up and he's bleeding," he said in a hurry. "What do we do?" It was as if Snape had known he'd been trying to get to Hogwarts. Thank God. He'd never been happy to see him before, but if he could help… Lupin was looking a bit gray around the edges now, and Harry desperately needed someone else to do something.

Snape glared at him then glanced down at the body. "What happened to him?"

"I - I don't know. Yesterday… l-last night…" Stupid. Why was he stammering?

Snape laid Lupin on the sofa and quickly started checking the werewolf, lifting his eyelids and feeling his pulse. Though he'd stopped bleeding he was still dangerously pale and breathed slowly and deeply. His fingernails were almost transparent and hardly regained any colour when Snape pressed them. Obviously, he lacked blood. Nothing could be done about that here, so he lifted him and swept around, unbalancing Potter who quickly stepped out of his way. "Go to Hogwarts," he snapped before stepping back through the fire to his office.

Harry watched wide-eyed as he disappeared. Funny. He didn't look like he was spinning. Then his brain focused on what Snape had said. Go to Hogwarts? He'd been trying to do that! Bloody Snape, he could at least tell him how to get there! He fumed as he tried once more with the floo powder. It had worked for Snape and he hadn't done it any differently! He'd make sure to enunciate carefully this time.

"HOG - WARTS!"

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Snape made his way straight to the Hospital Wing on the third floor. All the while, Lupin lay limply in his arms. As he strode through the long corridors, almost breaking into a run, but not quite, he reminisced about his childhood – and Lupin's.

They'd been on opposite sides almost since coming to Hogwarts. Lupin with his little gang of miscreants. Snape recalled a small boy with wavy light honey brown hair and clear brown eyes. Lupin had loved to read and had never been much of an outgoing personality. Quiet in classes, yet clever, he'd have never attracted much attention if it weren't for his friends. And his looks. Snape growled to himself as he recalled the little crush he'd had for Lupin.

It hadn't even been a surprise to find out that he fancied the werewolf. Ever since he'd seen him across the Great Hall with his nose buried in his glass of pumpkin juice, eyes staring straight at Snape. He'd been surprised at that. Lupin looked at him like he saw him, his eyes didn't pass him by nor did they look scornful. Severus knew he hadn't been comely or likable when he was young. He had been full of resentment and anger.

At first, Snape thought that Lupin wanted to be friends with him. They got along alright, in class. They had even gotten to greeting each other when they passed in the halls. He'd been excited at the prospect. Most of the Slytherin first years were too tiresome to be around. He found them insipid with their petty quarrels and competitive cliques. They curried favor with the seniors and looked down upon him because he didn't and as a result was ignored most of the time. The one thing he hated the most was being ignored. It didn't matter if the people doing it were below his notice.

Anyway, it all crumbled when that Black idiot began to pick on him. He hadn't responded at first because Lupin had always been around and he hadn't wanted to fight in front of him. He knew he'd lose. And Black knew it. He noticed Snape whenever he hung around after class, or in the library. He and that Potter made his life miserable by always poking fun at him and insulting him. Then beating him. And gradually… gradually he didn't care anymore whether Lupin bothered that his almost-friend was being bullied by his mates.

He'd realized that his crush on Lupin was nothing more than admiration of his looks and hope for his friendship. The little werewolf had hardly lived up to his expectation of a friend. So Snape had been complacent with returning the tricks they played on him with spiteful traps of his own.

Then the worse happened. He didn't know what triggered it. Maybe it was because this time he'd hit out at Lily, and Black being the ever faithful mutt that he was had taken it into his head to take revenge for Potter. But he'd always thought that Black had done it for his own satisfaction and revenge.

That evening, he'd been at the owlery, watching as Madam Pomfrey led Lupin across the grounds. He knew they were going to the Shrieking Shack to hide him away. He'd found out all he could about Lupin's condition, fascinated by the thought that the meek boy he saw in the halls would turn into a ferocious dark creature, intent only on spilling blood on the night of the full moon. He'd snuck into the Restricted Section and read all about the condition, its related effects, potions and spells.

He had been wondering, what it was like to have to go through the transformation alone, in pain and feeling your own mind become unrecognizable, as thoughts and desires flowed through veins twisted out of shape. Then Black had come and goaded him into destroying whatever hope he'd had of getting to know Lupin better.

Snape shook himself out of his reverie, snarling softly at his memories. He looked down at Lupin and noted the fading bruises on his face and neck. It was almost evening.

The Hospital Wing had a deserted feeling that he immediately noted when he entered. Madam Pomfrey must not be back from St. Mungo's yet. Snape gently laid Lupin onto a white bed and hurried for her cabinet. Removing a vial of Blood Replenishing Potion, he tipped the contents into Lupin's mouth; carefully stroking his throat to make sure every drop was swallowed. Then he sat down beside the bed and waited, eyes constantly looking out the windows at the stretching shadows and at Lupin's face.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

tbc


	4. Chapter 3: Changes

Title: Dreams

Rating: R for violence.

Summary: Something's wrong with Lupin.

Disclaimer: This doesn't belong to me. I don't claim the characters. Don't sue, I don't own anything much.

A/N: This is AU, kay?

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Changes 

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was twilight by the time he caught sight of Hogwarts. It had taken the rest of the afternoon and evening to get from the cottage to Hogmeade. Part of the reason for this was his stubbornness in persisting with the Floo powder. But eventually he'd given up and decided to just walk out the front door only to discover that the cottage was situated quite close to Hogsmeade.

It was almost dark now, and looked deserted in the magical village. It was unnerving to walk down the street and look at all the familiar shops. He could almost see the ghosts of yesteryears, almost hear Hermione's words as she expounded on the history of Hogsmeade; Ron's awed expression in Dervish and Banges haunted him as he climbed over the stile where they'd met Sirius so many times before, so long ago it seemed.

So much had changed since then, but Harry hadn't forgotten how it used to be at all. Instead he felt such a fierce longing to just be able to rematerialize everything the way it had been. The bittersweet nostalgic feeling was the only thing he wanted to hold onto now. He filled his heart with all the pain and regret he could muster to cushion himself, trying not to feel the emptiness he'd felt just now, alone in the derelict white cottage. Somehow his misery comforted him.

Passing by the Shrieking Shack and remembering the dramatic moments that had marked the beginning of his relationship with Sirius made him ponder just how far he'd come through the years. All the stolen moments of happiness in the past had been nothing compared to the security and comfort that had flooded his life in recent years. Even when he had to beat the odds battling with Voldemort he'd never felt lost, never felt as if he didn't belong the way he did before he ever came to Hogwarts. And since then, since he'd found his home in Hogwarts he'd never thought that he'd ever feel that way again.

But he did. Oh god, he did…

He never wanted to love them. Never wanted to miss them. It hadn't occurred to him that somehow, they had been important to him. _No._ _I got used to them, is all._ Got used to seeing their faces and hearing their voices. They weren't really important to him, they were more like… like a pair of really comfortable socks that he'd never notice wearing them, but missed when he couldn't find them. _That must be it._

As he reached the gates that led to Hogsmeade and glimpsed the shining black surface of the lake and the moon reflected on its surface it struck him that it was so ironic that he'd been trying to get away from them the whole of his life and now when it had finally happened and they were too far away to hurt him anymore he felt as if he'd give anything to have them back again. _Anything to have saved them_, he thought, not noticing the tears that pooled in his eyes.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_He could feel the press of the dark, their voices clamoring, their hands sweeping across his face. His thoughts couldn't focus; he seemed wrapped in the magic he floated on. The world was gray and fading, the only thing that he could hear was the beating of a heart, the feel of soft hands that melted over him. He was so caught up in the feeling, that strange feeling of not being, just anchored by the touch of a breath… _

_There was a steady rush of motion in the air, the breathing was so loud, it robbed him of every other sense… that feeling of breath by him. He was slowly loosing control, but it felt so good… he couldn't begin to describe the feeling…_

_He could feel himself waking, his heart slowing. The walls that enclosed him were tumbling down, letting loose the creatures within_.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Remus opened his eyes slowly. He could see the wind sweep the curtains inwards, making them billow and float at the windows, curtains made transparent by the candles that lined the long walls. The dark speckled sky half hidden by the delicate lace was illuminated by the moon, which seemed to pulse with that secret light he could feel penetrate his bones.

But above all, above the delicious smell of the dew and the wisp of the breeze, was the throb and whisper of life.

He lifted his muzzle and snuffled around the cozy bed of sheets, eyes closed once more as he savored the sweetness of freedom. Stretching his powerful legs, he shuffled slightly towards the source of the warm spiciness till his face was buried in softness. He took a long sniff and felt it stir then shift away. Following it eagerly, he found himself pushed suddenly away by coldness that slammed insultingly across his nose. Opening eyes in startlement, he found himself staring into tilted black eyes…

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Snape suddenly felt uneasy as he gazed into bright golden cat-like orbs. Intelligent as ever, Lupin was staring at him in that way of his, inquiring and slightly puzzled, as if he couldn't figure out why he had pushed his great ugly nose away. Snape didn't move, just sat there where he was, on the bed beside the large wolf.

He hadn't been able to keep away when he saw the pale moonbeams hit Lupin's skin, bringing on the transformation. Even when the nails elongated into wicked looking claws and teeth sprouted from beneath lips blackened and stretched. The wizard in him wanted to be as near as possible, to observe and see and know everything about the creature, and that uncomfortable desire to save him again had returned.

Even remembering that Lupin hadn't taken his Wolfsbane Potion hadn't deterred him as he sat there gently stroking the shiny gray fur.

Calmly he folded his hands in his lap and scrutinized him in return, trying not to blink as the golden eyes ran up and down his body as if debating which was the tastiest part. _I dare you to bite me…_

At first, Remus couldn't remember who it was who shared his bed. Then the coldness of attitude and disdainful face sparked a memory of a child he'd known once before. A little boy who had tried to kill him a long time ago, when he had been in pain and helpless to defend himself. The memory made anger spike and he felt his teeth ache with the desire to sink into that pale vulnerable flesh that was so near him. He inched closer, pretending to want to cuddle and turned his head into the black robes that separated flesh from fangs.

Snape recoiled in disgust when a patch of dark saliva appeared on his black robes, but Lupin was half reclined on him, his paws kneading the flesh as he burrowed further. Irritated at his strange behavior and feeling uncertain, he wrenched his arm away violently, dislodging Lupin. Looking around for his wand to cast a drying spell, he felt a prickling sensation on his back and turned around just in time to catch a glimpse of malicious yellow eyes and a blood soaked mouth.

"Argh!" He fell over his chair in his hurry to get away. The beast was glaring at him from on top the bed, its huge head bent towards him on the ground. The empty space beneath the bed seemed like a nice place to be in at the moment, if not for the gaping jaws that hung low and snapped at him. He scrambled back just as it leapt and flung his arms up to protect his neck, only to recall his wand in his hand. "_HOMORPHUS!_"

Remus howled in pain as the human brandished a glowing stick and shot a spear of silver light that flashed in his eyes and struck him painfully on his chest. It was excruciating! Leaping at the human he slashed at it with his retreating claws and bowled it over, making for the windows opened to the grounds below. With a blood-curdling cry that sounded almost human, he crashed through the glass.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Harry jerked around at the flurry of movement that crashed towards him, his hair on end and his head ringing from the cry of pain that assaulted his ears.

Charging towards him was a nightmare. Half human half beast, its legs were bent the wrong way and its heavy head, too heavy for the slim neck it perched on swung as it sniffed the air, letting loose another scream before turning away and hurtling towards the Forbidden Forest.

Rooted to the ground, he stared from his vantage point beside the cliffs as the creature bounded past the Whomping Willow, received a bone-cracking whack and collapsed on the ground beneath the infuriated tree. He couldn't move, and the split second in which he stood staring felt like forever to him.

He recognized that body.

Harry lurched forward, each whimper that he heard from the suffering creature cutting at him, urging him to run faster. He'd nearly reached the tree, had already bent to pick up the long branch that had fallen at the force of the willows whipping, aimed it at the knob that would still the tree, when a shout stopped him in his tracks.

There, pale against the night and swathed in black robes was Snape. He ran like one possessed and gestured frantically with his hands, clearly trying to make him stop. His words were whipped away in the wind that had suddenly picked up but Harry suddenly realized his intentions. Lupin was struggling on the ground in pain, clearly trying to get away from him though it brought him increasingly near the willow. Harry backed away, horrified when he saw the werewolf's struggles cease. He stood back, waiting for Snape to arrive, his eyes glued on the figure that lay still and hardly flinched when a stray branch clubbed the ground near him.

"Get away from him," Snape hissed, out of breath from his exertion, eyes snapping with determination and anger.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked. Lupin had stopped moving by now, only moaning softly when the ground shook from the force of the willow's blows.

"Watch and learn," Snape sneered as he drew his wand out from the sleeve of his robes and swished it in Lupin's direction. The charm darted toward Lupin and lifted him, robes curling around his body, supporting and carrying him away from the willow to the far side of the grounds near the Forest. The willow was still straining in their direction, striving to smash them to smithereens but Snape calmly walked round the radius of its reach and knelt beside Lupin on the ground.

"What's happened to him?" Harry asked, aghast at the werewolf's appearance. "Why is he like that?" He knelt beside Snape, carefully pulling away the shredded black robes that Lupin had entangled himself in. The werewolf was shaking slightly and moaning, shielding his face away from them, trying hard to control himself. Snape began to run his wand slowly down his body, pausing every now and then to examine an injury.

"It's the full moon. He hasn't taken his potion. So he's dangerous – keep away, Potter!" Snape snarled harshly, knocking away Harry's hands before reaching in his voluminous sleeves for a vial of reddish potion. Harry fell backwards onto his heels. He felt so angry and useless. Snape's explanation was hardly informative and if he hadn't been so worried about Lupin he would have yelled so at him. But as it was, it seemed that Snape knew what was going on and Harry didn't want to be the one to mess things up by distracting him.

He sat back, away from the werewolf and watched as Snape gently laid Lupin's head in his lap, avoiding his erratic twitches and growls. He forced him to drink the viscous potion then waited. Finally the werewolf went limp. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and watched Snape pocket the empty vial before lifting Lupin, hardly staggering beneath his weight and bundled him up to take him back to the castle.

Harry followed him as quickly as he could. Though he didn't look agile at all, Snape could move very fast when he wanted to. Harry could hardly keep up with his long strides as he climbed the steps carved into the cliffs and disappeared into the castle.

He followed Snape all the way to the hospital wing, watching carefully as the professor tucked Lupin into a snowy white bed then pulled the netting close. "Why didn't you give him the potion?"

Snape glared at him from beneath heavy brows and slowly walked over to a rumpled bed near Lupin's and sat down. "If you haven't noticed yet Potter," he snarled "Lupin isn't a werewolf at the moment." He stared accusingly at him.

"And why is that? If it's the full moon and you _haven't_ given him the potion?" He couldn't, wouldn't tolerate this any longer. "Spit it out already! What's wrong with Lupin?"

"Don't you know?"

"Of course not! I wouldn't have asked you if I did."

Snape looked at him, annoyed at having to explain. "If you remember anything at all of what I'd taught you, you'd know that the Wolfsbane potion is a very potent potion that prevents the dementia that accompanies the change from man to beast. It consists of ingredients that once combined and brewed to perfection," he gazed derisively at Harry as if doubting his ability to comprehend the meaning of a perfectly brewed potion "nullifies to an extent, the loss of self that a werewolf experiences during and after the change." He stopped.

"I knew that!" Harry said. "And?"

"And at the moment, Mister Lupin's body is undergoing great change. See for yourself." He drew the filmy curtains back. "Observe his face."

Harry approached the bed and stared at where Snape's hand was pointing. Lupin's face was pale as snow and smooth in his sleep. His hair was spread out over the pillow and in the dim candlelight, had a rich honey sheen that gleamed. He looked enquiringly at Snape. "What am I supposed to be seeing?" Snape narrowed his eyes. He lifted his hand and traced the hollows beneath Lupin's eyes and the edges of his mouth, then he lifted an eyelid to reveal a yellow iris and dilated pupil.

Then it struck him. There were none of the fine lines that had run a network on his face. The crowfeet around his eyes had disappeared; the deeper clefts left by too many frowns had faded away. The perpetual dark hollows beneath Lupin's eyes that hinted at exhaustion were gone too. Lupin looked younger, though no less scruffy.

"He looks… young." Harry wondered out loud. How can it be? "What change is happening? What has the potion to do with it?"

Snape looked down at his hand twined in the bedcovers. "He can't take the potion because his body is fighting with itself," he said slowly as if he were speaking his thoughts out loud. "It would only confuse the magic that is already roiling within him, battling with the foreign curse that is gradually embedding itself into his body." He looked up sharply at Harry.

"What curse?" Harry asked, dreading the answer. Oddly he felt as if he should know the answer, he understood it from the way Snape had looked at him just now and the way he was scrutinizing his face now. As if it were so plainly written on his forehead, clearly printed there that this was his doing.

"The curse of the Living Dead." Snape black eyes flashed as he answered flatly.

TBC.


	5. Chapter 4: Morning Come

Title: Dreams

Rating: G

Summary: After a horror filled night, it's the morning after and friends drop by to share news and cart our heroes to St. Mungo's

Disclaimer: This doesn't belong to me. I don't claim the characters. Don't sue, I don't own anything much.

A/N: My stupid computer 'died' and took with it all my files. Including the three chapters I wrote following the last I posted. I'm tired of waiting for it to cough up my files so I'm trying to rewrite the chapters. I'm sorry it's taken so long but I'm also having terrible exams. Anyway, here it is. Er. It's been a while since I wrote so please alert me if I deviate from what occurred in the story before. I'm too lazy to read everything again. :)

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Morning Come

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"The curse of what" Harry asked, too puzzled to believe his ears.

"Of the Living Dead, Potter." Snape glared at having to repeat himself

"But how did he get cursed?" Harry wondered out loud.

"That's up to you to tell me," replied Snape shortly.

Harry sat down on the other side of Lupin and started playing with the shredded ends of his dark robe. "I don't know. I only know what I saw." He glanced at Professor Snape.

"My aunt, uncle and cousin were murdered last night. Lupin came to help but… it was too late. I don't remember much after that." He looked distractedly out the window. "There were some people who came. I… passed out and didn't see who. I only remember that they wore black," he winced at the thought that everyone in the wizarding world wore black and it was so unhelpful to remember that. "And they were yelling. Then I think I lost consciousness. No wait! There was a flash of green light. I think Lupin must've cursed them, since we got out of there alive."

"I already knew about your cousin's family. But those people…" Snape pondered. "You are sure you saw them? Before you," he narrowed his eyes, "passed out."

"Yes."

Silence reigned for a while as they both thought on what Harry had said. Professor Snape was wondering how on earth Lupin could have taken on a whole troupe of Death Eaters and yet escape relatively unscathed while lugging Potter around. And how was it that Lupin was the one who came and he hadn't even been notified of the presence of Death Eaters on the move? Surely Dumbledore would have asked for his input on their activities. He was after all their spy. He frowned and ran circles in his thoughts.

"Sir?"

"What?"

"What's going to happen to Lupin? He's a werewolf. How can he turn into a vampire?"

"There has certainly never been a documented case of such an occurrence," mused Snape, distracted. "I cannot say for certain." He lapsed into silence again, this time regarding Lupin's face as he wondered what would happen to the fatigued werewolf. If such a phenomenon did occur he wanted to be close by to study him. This was even better than watching a werewolf transform. Then he shuddered as he recalled the feral eyes of the creature that attacked him. Not again. He would invent a potion. A potion that would work like the wolfsbane, yes. He's never had such a chance before. Now he would -

"What are we going to do then?"

He glared as his thoughts were interrupted again. "_You_ are going to go up to the Gryffindor dorm to sleep. I will remain down here. Now go." _Scat, Potter._

"No. I'm staying here!" Harry insisted, climbing on to a bed and holding on to the sheets, daring Snape to pull him off and drag him to the dorms. And Snape was sorely tempted. But it was late, he was tired and the idiot boy was not worth fussing over.

"Suit yourself." He hissed and turning his back he stalked to the office Madam Pomfrey used when she had the care of the ward. He shut the door firmly, turned off the lights and settled down in the armchair to think and brood the night away.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The Hospital Wing

Early Morning

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Harry was woken up by a muffled shout echoing down the empty hall. No tapestries cushioned the sound as Madam Pomfrey was of the opinion that they attracted too much dust and dirt for it to be healthy to have strips of decorative cloth hanging on the walls. Instead she took great delight in furnishing the wing with beautiful pictures. But none of the pictures were as interesting as the one Harry woke up to.

Down the hall was the office Snape had retired to late last night. Now its door was flung wide open and strange sounds accompanied the strange scene that played out before his eyes.

Madam Pomfrey was back in full force. She was pressing Professor Snape down on the little cot in the office with one arm and holding his robes open with the other. The blood had drained from Harry's face and puddled in his stomach before he realized that his Potions Professor and Matron were not making out in full view albeit their intimate seeming positions. Madam Pomfrey had a wad of cotton wool in her hands now and was busy dabbing yellow sticky ointment on Snapes abdomen all the while threatening to pinch her patient to make him stay still. Harry almost smiled when he saw the look on Professor Snape's face as he submitted to the administrations of the plump little woman.

He could have stayed there and gazed upon the pretty picture for hours enjoying Professor Snape's suffering and imagining Ron's face as he relayed the story to him. But suddenly his view was blocked by the appearance of a bright pink head of feathery hair half covering the face of a young boy with a pencil thin nose. "T-Tonks?"

"Heya, Harry!" The boy beamed at him and the features lit up as a bright smile stretched across Tonk's pseudo face. "Snape summoned us to take Lupin to St. Mungo's"

"Oh."_ I thought Lupin said St. Mungo's was too full,_ Harry thought bemusedly. Then he sadly about what had happened to Lupin. _Full or not, St. Mungo's is going to have another patient._

"Harry?" Tonks voice spoke soft and mournfully in his ear. Harry jumped as he was enveloped by a very bony and thin body. "I'm sorry about what happened to your family." She drew back a bit and looked deep into his eyes, her nose almost touching his. "We would've been there earlier. But there were complications," her voice died down to a whisper and she looked left and right before shifting further into his personal space. "Headquarters was blown up." She nodded at him seriously, "while we were inside. In the confusion nobody got the alert that something was happening. Dumbledore is distraught. I've never seen him so angry before." She glanced over at Lupin. "Lupin's the only one we could spare to check out the disturbance in Privet Drive. We didn't know it was so serious," she said looking at him like she expected to be assaulted.

Harry didn't know what to say. He hadn't thought about Dudley, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon since last night. Which seemed like a dream. It was almost unreal now, the fact that they were dead. Here at Hogwarts, they had never been anything more than an unpleasant thought. He didn't feel the deep gut wrenching dread he'd felt last night at the thought of losing them. He smoothed a hand down his rumpled shirt and shifted away from Tonks' arms. "It's alright. I… I couldn't do anything either." Tonks' face crumpled up at what she probably thought was a hint of his guilt-ridden mind and he quickly distracted her. "Ron and Hermione weren't at Headquarters when it happened were they? And how did it happen anyway?"

"No, Hermione is staying at Ron's place, the Burrow. And we're not really sure how it happened. There was no magical signature, no trace of enchantment. That's why we weren't alerted. It was as if a Muggle had suddenly managed to _see_ the place and decided to knock it down with a Bull Nap-er."

"A… a what?"

"You know, what they use instead of a Reducto curse." She looked uncertainly at him. "Arthur says Muggles use a… some sort of bull to knock buildings down. Only I never figured how they got the bulls to do it while sleeping…" She canted her head to the side, clearly picturing a scene in her mind.

Harry gave a start and almost laughed. "You mean a bulldozer!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah." She grinned happily. "Anyway, it's gone now. Nothing more than a pile of rubble. Sirius would be pleased," she said quietly. "Mrs. Black was screaming all the way through and now she's nothing more than a board of streaked paint and torn canvas." Her grin turned savage and obsessed as she was reminded of what had happened to Sirius' mother's portrait.

"Oh." He didn't know what to say to that.

"Hey, I think Victoria is done with Snape!" Tonks said as she bounced off the bed. Professor Snape was trailing behind Madam Pomfrey, his menacing stride slightly off as he drew his black robes more firmly around himself. Madam Pomfrey was clicking her tongue and bustling along towards them muttering as she walked.

"- how someone can spend the whole night and not know of being injured! Unthinkable. A professor too!" she mumbled. "Hello Harry, dear." She looked anxiously at him. "You aren't hurt are you?" She looked interestedly at his torn jeans and the rip in his T-shirt. Harry knew there was a lot of blood on his clothes, mostly from Lupin and the gashes he had sustained during the night the Dursleys died. He squirmed away as she ran her wand down his cheek healing the scrape the broken glass had caused.

"No, Madam Pomfrey. Nothing more than a few scratches and bruises," he lifted his shirt to assure her when he saw her eyes gleam with suspicion. "Tonks said you're going to take Lupin to the hospital."

"That's right. He needs a full checkup from what I've heard from Professor Snape. You'll be coming too, Dumbledore wants to meet you," she waved her wand to conjure up a stretcher and floated Lupin over to it before magicking it down the hall in front of her toward the fireplace in the office. On close inspection, the office didn't look quite as small as it seemed from down the hall.

Harry followed behind Snape with Tonks at his side. Madam Pomfrey reached into a pot sitting next to a clock on the mantelpiece and flung a handful of sparkly red Floo powder into the small fire burning merrily in the fireplace. "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies!" she called out and stepped into the fire as the fireplace expanded magically to accommodate the stretcher that followed her inside. Then with a whoosh of green flames she was gone. Snape went next leaving Tonks and Harry to follow. The little office glowed green and red as they left before the fire died down to softly smoldering embers, leaving the wing cold and uninhabited again.

TBC


	6. Chapter 5: The Stranger in Room 205

Title: Dreams

Rating: G

Summary: Harry meets a certain someone at St. Mungo's.

Disclaimer: This doesn't belong to me. I don't claim the characters. Don't sue, I don't own anything much.

A/N: Erm. I should have mentioned much, much earlier that there will be spoilers until the 5th HP book. I started before the 6th came out. But I did read the 6th. Therefore there might be some teensy weensy spoilers from there to. But I'll tell if they are… and if I remember.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The Stranger in Ward 205

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Lupin was right, Harry thought as he navigated the halls of St. Mungo's. The hospital was bustling with activity and looked as if it had been doing so for quite some time. There had been nurses magicking stretchers by the dozen downstairs in the entrance hall as patient after patient barged in.

Some were clearly hurt by accident, as was attested by the patient with a man-eating cactus attached to his head but others seemed to have survived injury from other darker means. The young teenage girl for example, from Beauxbatons, who had limped in with her twin brother in her arms, crying incoherently about being attacked by harpies while on holiday skiing. Harry shook his head. From what he'd learned during Care of Magical Creatures under Professor Planck, Harpies were dark creatures that lived in remote high ranges. Though ferocious, they hardly ever attacked wizards and witches mainly due to the fact that they hardly ever came into contact with them.

And they weren't the only ones. From passing through the halls, Harry had gleaned enough from what he'd seen to know that the werewolf, vampire, hinkypunks, nagas, imps, and numerous other dark creatures were on the rise in activity. Communities of elves, nymphs, fairies and sprites were being displaced from their forests and had settled down nearer to civilization to seek salvation from the sudden uprising.

Madam Pomfrey and Tonks however had hardly battered an eyelid at the surge in activity, which made Harry wonder just how much he'd missed while safely imprisoned at Privet Drive. Snape too, though irritated at having to brush against so many people was hardly deterred from striding down the halls. It was all Harry could do to keep up while gawking at the people he saw.

They had passed many obviously new wings, newly painted and bare from decorations. It looked like a swarm of engineer dwarves had overhauled the place. Streaks of paint in multicolor colored the walls to lead personnel and patients to the various new wards set up. Their party followed a particular one, neon green in colour and labeled with "Unidentifiable Accidents and Mishaps" above it. Eventually it brought them to a spacious room filled with equipment and attendants.

"Florence," Madam Pomfrey said warmly as they were greeted by a middle-aged witch in soft green robes. "Remus here needs a checkup. We suspect a vampire attack but there isn't a trace of a bite on him and he is a werewolf currently sedated since," she checked her watch, a slim golden timepiece that clung to her wrist, "last night at 1:30 p.m. which makes it five hours already." She gestured to a large tank filled with a viscous sky blue liquid. "A full body check up, please."

"Alright." Florence said as she took over the stretcher from Madam Pomfrey. "We'll need to run a few tests," she said as she ran her wand down Lupin's body, taking note of the signals it gave out. "Will you all remain here for the tests? I might need to ask a few questions."

"Yes, though Tonks, I think you might escort Harry to Dumbledore now," Madam Pomfrey said.

"Alright, Vicky," Tonks said as she nudged Harry towards the door. "Come on, Harry, it's the top floor so we'll take the elevators."

Harry found himself deftly steered towards a wide elevator that opened up immediately when they reached it. The doors dinged open and dinged close then dinged again as Tonks stated the floor they wanted to go to. Harry found himself shooting upwards, the feeling exactly what a Muggle elevator felt like, when suddenly it stopped. He heard a dinging sound and turned around as a set of doors he hadn't noticed dinged open.

A large trolley bed guided by a medic wizard wheeled in. The patient was lying comatose on the bed, handcuffed to the railings. It was a woman, pale as the sheets she lay on, with a surgery cap on her head and hospital robes on her. Her body was riddled with pins, and delicately slim tubes with various colored liquids running through them surrounded her body, suffusing the patches of skin they touched with glowing potions that seeped in. Harry watched fascinated as the medic tended to her, transferring several tubes from different parts of her body to another. He was so busy staring at the tubes that he was startled when Tonks nudged him and gestured to the patient's hands handcuffed to the railing.

"What?" he whispered. The medic looked up then looked down, taking note of them in a sweep of his eyes. Tonks nudged him again, and her nose seemed to grow longer as she once again gestured toward the slim hands.

Harry peered carefully at the hands. Small hands with long fingers, manicured pale nails… a very slim white gold ring circled the fourth finger of her left hand. It was elegantly cast with a pattern of waves engraved in the center. Harry blinked as it gleamed brightly in the lights as the elevator doors dinged open and the medic wheeled her out.

"What-"

Ding The doors opened again and Tonks ushered him out. "Now Harry, Dumbledore's in Room 205, just go down the hall, it's the door on the right, Arthur's by the door so you should be quite safe, I've got to see to something, if you would just excuse me!" With that, she pushed him out of the elevator and dinged the doors close. Harry stood there in astonishment for a few seconds before he was greeted by a warm voice.

"Ah, Harry!" Mr. Weasley said. "I'm so glad you're alright. Ron and Hermione were so anxious about you it was all I could do to keep them at home. Molly has been almost beside herself with worry."

"Hello, Mr Weasley." Harry said. "Is everything alright at the Burrow?"

"Oh yes. Percy has returned home. He's no longer working at the Ministry."

"Why?"

"Well, it's a long story. I'll tell you when we have more time," Mr Weasley said as he held open the door of Room 205 for Harry.

"Okay." Why was everyone in such a hurry? Harry stepped further into the room. It was pale green in colour instead of white, with a border of what looked like plaster of Paris lining the ceiling and where the floor met the walls. There was a carpet on the floor, an oddity since hospitals were keen on cleanliness, and the windows were shaded with pale blue drapes with a pattern of silver flowers. At the moment the drapes were drawn and so Harry didn't see the bed situated in the right corner of the room until he was alerted by a slight cough.

"Ahem." A tall figure in dark robes stood up from its seat on a rocking chair. Professor Dumbledore moved towards Harry to greet him. "Harry, you're here at last."

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed. Professor Dumbledore looked thinner than he'd been last term. His beard was longer too. "It's good to see you."

"Not as good as it is to see _you_, Harry." He smiled and though it was dark Harry could see that it was a tired and sad smile. "I have to apologize, Harry, for what happened to your family. I should have done more to protect them and you. As it is, it is of no credit to me that you survived. I can only thank Remus' quick action for it. I am… deeply sorry. And I pray that you believe me when I say that I never would have let things happen the way they did… I-"

"It's alright Professor." Harry interrupted. He couldn't handle seeing Dumbledore practically begging his forgiveness. "Tonks told me what happened. They must have planned it that way. I- I don't blame you."

Professor Dumbledore stood there for a few moments, at a lost at what to say. He felt intensely guilty over what had happened. Yet Harry didn't blame him? It was a terrible thing to hope that it was true. After all that he'd done. And yet, perhaps it wasn't all lost.

"Harry. There's someone you should meet." He retreated into the interior of the room, his long robes rustling in the piled carpet. "Someone… you might know," he said cryptically as he drew back the curtains that draped round the bed.

Harry approached him, glancing as he walked past at Dumbledore's face, but it was cloaked in shadows. He looked down at the occupant of the bed, wondering who it was.

There lay a figure, heavily asleep and dressed in St. Mungo's pale green robes. The room was dark but his eyes could still make out the familiar body, he'd seen it so many times, though he'd never seen it as still as it was. Hefty for his size, the boy lying on the bed was too still for anyone to mistake his inactivity for the calm of sleep. In fact the only thing that moved on the bed was the big black spider that was weaving its web above the head of pale gold hair. The strands dangled down the chubby cheeks and sunk deep into the skin, shielding the upper part of his face and totally covering his eyes. Yet he knew immediately who it was.

"Dudley!" he gasped in shock. His cousin lay there on the bed, immobile yet clearly alive. "Didn't he-?" He looked up questioningly at Dumbledore.

"No. Fortunately Mr. Dursley survived. Or rather, preserved himself with success," replied Dumbledore.

"Preserved -" Harry could only gape at his cousin's serene body. The spider was still swiftly weaving strings of web, thin as hairs around his face. "What do you mean?"

Dumbledore sat down in the rocking chair with a sigh. He rocked to and fro several times before replying.

"Your cousin, Harry, is not unlike yourself. Whatever adversity they faced, it seems that he did not succumb as your aunt and uncle did. I do not know exactly how it happened, but it is clear from what we found that your cousin, Dudley," he paused and scrutinized Harry's face, "has exhibited his first feat as a wizard gifted with the ability to do magic."

Harry gazed at him incredulously again. A twinkle sparkled from within the depths of Dumbledore's eyes. The Boy Who Lived looked awfully amusing at the moment.

"Yes, Harry. It's true. Your cousin was finally, at long last, stimulated to demonstrate his talent in an act of self defense." He turned his face away. "Would that it had not had to happen so," he added in a whisper to himself.

Harry turned back to stare at his cousin. The spider was now somewhere behind his left ear, its horrifically long legs spanning the length of his face as they spindled the mesh of web. "But why… why now?"

"Numerous reasons, Harry. It could be that your cousin, cushioned by his doting parents, never felt the need to demonstrate his ability. Maybe because of what they thought and how they regarded you, he subconsciously suppressed himself. Or perhaps, he just simply wasn't ready."

Harry recalled what Neville had said about his uncle throwing him from several floors high to make him perform magic, and how Neville had succeeded and bounced onto the street. If his uncle had not 'encouraged' him so, would Neville ever have entered Hogwarts? Then an awful thought occurred to him. What had happened that night must have been so terrible; traumatic enough to induce Dudley to draw on the powers he had always feared in Harry, to draw on them to save himself. _How… how awful._ _He must have been so desperate._

"Why is he unconscious then, if he managed to protect himself?"

"According to the medical analysis conducted on Mr. Dursley, the sudden influx of magic in his system temporarily induced a coma as his body struggles to adjust to the…" he leaned to the side and picked up the chart attached to the railing of the bed, "'the surge of previously unused magic.'" He replaced the chart. "I think that the channeling of raw magic not tempered by a wand and in such vast amounts has caused a depletion of his energy. Of course it could also be influenced by emotional and mental shock."

"Oh." Harry paused a moment and regarded Dudley's pale face. What could be seen of it that is. "What is the spider doing?"

"Ah. The Weaver Spider. It is monitoring him as well as protecting his mind and senses. A succubus and various incubi are being treated in the 'Dangerous Beasts' ward." He smiled. "Mr. Dursley would be easy prey to them."

Harry shook his head in bewilderment. _What next?_ he wondered.

"I have got to go Harry. I must see to Remus." Dumbledore got up and steadied the rocking chair. "I will ask Arthur to join you. Please wait a moment," he said as he walked away, leaving Harry to gaze back and forth at his retreating back and Dudley's prone body. What if he woke up while Harry was alone with him?

"You might want to try the rocking chair, Harry," Dumbledore turned around and gestured at the chair. "Very comfortable." And with that, he left.

TBC.


End file.
